Brides of Ohio (29 page)

He walked into the house and stepped into the parlor, ready to apologize for the way he left and for staying away so long. But he stopped short as he saw she had fallen asleep on the high-backed sofa. Softly, he walked over and knelt in front of her.

What should he do? She couldn’t stay here all night. His palms began to sweat as he realized he would have to carry her upstairs. He shifted his weight, and a board in the floor creaked, waking her.

Her eyes flew open. “Jonah!” she exclaimed, and before he could stop her, she had wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him.

He froze for several seconds before slowly returning the embrace. Her scent of lavender surrounded him, and her hair was soft against his neck. He closed his eyes. A lifetime of love for her rushed at him all at once, and he thought his heart might burst it pounded so hard. Had Pa felt like this for Ma? Had Nate loved her this much? Thoughts of his best friend caused him to back away and stand up. “I’m sorry I worried you,” he said haltingly.

She looked up at him in surprise before she spoke. “It’s all right. Are you well?”

“I’m fine.” Jonah turned and, seeing the seat at the secretary across the room, made for it and sat down. It was easier to look at her now that she was farther away. “Daniel told me everything that happened after he came home.”

“Oh,” she said, dropping her eyes. “Then you know how horribly I behaved after Nathaniel died?”

“I’m not sure I would call it horrible,” he said. “Your husband died. How were you supposed to act?”

She paused a moment before she answered. “As a child of Christ, I should have turned toward Him instead of away.”

He felt the anger rising in him. “And that’s how I should have acted?”

“I did not say that.”

He clenched and reclenched his fists. He looked at Adele. She was watching him with careful eyes as if he were a powder keg sitting too close to a flame.
Why not? That’s how I feel. All set to explode. Like a gun ready to go off.

He could see his gun leaning against the wall just inside the door, and the sight of it filled him with even more anger. He turned his gaze elsewhere, only to see Pa’s Bible lying on the side table next to the rocker.

All right, God. Addie says You work through people. Pa always said the same. Let’s see how You do.
He looked at Adele with blazing eyes.

She looked back, calm, steadfast, and sure.

“Give me one good reason why I should forgive God.”

The demand took Adele off guard, but only for a moment. “I cannot answer that unless I know why you are angry at Him.”

His eyes narrowed. “You know why.”

“Do I? When have you told me? Over the last year since you came home, when have you told me of your anger?” He didn’t answer, so she continued. “If you will not tell me, then I cannot answer you.”

They stared at each other. Eventually Adele started to gather her things.
Father
,
this is hopeless
—

“Zach.”

She looked up.

Jonah was looking at her, but his eyes seemed to be in another place.

Her heart began to pound. “Who is Zach?”

“He was younger than Toby, from Mount Vernon. A cannonball took his head clean off. How could God have let that happen to him?”

Adele raised her hands to her mouth. The image his words evoked silenced anything else she might have said or even thought.

After another moment, he continued on. “And they wouldn’t give us water in Andersonville. There was nothing to drink from but a filthy stream. People bathed and … did other things in it, and we were supposed to drink from it, too. Instead, we’d lay our clothes out in the rain—when it came—to soak up the water, then wring it into shallow bowls later. And the lice never stopped eating us.” His eyes filled with a cold anger. “So many people died who I wanted to live. I can’t even count how many times I prayed, so many times without an answer. How am I supposed to forgive Him for that?”

Tears were streaming down Adele’s face. “You think God is responsible for the sin men do?”

“He’s responsible for not stopping it. Pa taught me God is supposed to be all-powerful, all-good. I’m not so sure anymore.”

“But He is all those things, Jonah.”

“How?”

“You are here.” Adele rushed over and knelt before his chair. “You survived. You came home. Don’t you know how I praised and thanked God when I saw you walking up the drive that day? Yes, many people perished, but you did not. He saved you. He brought you home to me.”

“Why me? Why not Nate?”

“Oh Jonah, I do not know. I only know God is with us through our troubles. He is not the cause of them.”

Jonah turned her words over and over in his mind as he lay in bed that night. He thought about how many times he should have died in the war but hadn’t. On at least two occasions he’d sat down at the campfire after a battle and found holes in the top of his cap—bullet holes. Once, while he’d been reloading in the middle of a battle, one had come so close to his ear he’d heard the whistle of it as it flew by, and he turned to see it had settled into the man behind him, killing him. And Andersonville. How many times should he have died there?

He sat up in bed.
The
Sultana.
I should have died then
,
too.
He had thought it was only by chance that he had been unable to sleep and was standing at the bow of the steamship when the boiler exploded. He had jumped in the water almost immediately. And he’d managed to help at least two other men to shore.
They never would have made it if I hadn’t.
As weak as Andersonville had made him, he’d somehow found the strength to help them.

He looked up at the moon as its light streamed through the window in his room.
But why didn’t You do the same for Nate? Then Adele would have a real husband and Jacob a real father.

To his shock, he felt an answer deep in his heart. But it couldn’t be right.
No. No, they’re his. They were never mine, never supposed to be mine.
But the answer remained. Jonah lay back down and closed his eyes and his heart to it and fell into a fitful sleep.

“Explain to me again why we have to sit clear down here?” Jonah asked the next morning. Will was crowded down at the end of the table with him, while Jacob and Adele sat at the other with Anne perched on his wife’s lap. Jonah couldn’t stretch out his long legs with the others sitting so close. He was glad the little girl had finally told Adele her name and had slept peacefully in her room last night, but he was still trying to grasp why she should be so afraid of men.

Adele looked at him apologetically. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure why myself. I just know she will not eat if you are near.”

“If I may, ma’am, last night I think it might have had more to do with Mr. Morgan,” Will said. Cyrus didn’t come to breakfast on Sunday mornings. He made do in his little place near the creek. Will rose and slid his chair closer. Anne looked at him warily but continued to eat. Will smiled in triumph, and Jonah sighed with relief. His legs had been getting cramped.

He, Will, and Jacob finished up, and while the other two went out to hitch up the buggy, Jonah lingered in his seat for a moment. “She was frightened of Cyrus?” he asked.

“He is wild looking,” Adele pointed out.

Jonah frowned slightly. “Cyrus Morgan is a good man. He just prefers a simpler kind of life.”

“Like Erich had, I suppose,” she said thoughtfully.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”

“No, it’s all right. I need to store his things away in the attic.” The crate still sat in the corner of the dining room. Adele leaned her cheek lightly against Anne’s head. “Erich would have liked the memorial service. But he would have hated seeing so many people wearing black just for him. I am glad he did not see how long I wore it when Nathaniel died.”

Her mention of Nate brought to mind what Jonah had felt before he went to sleep last night. He pushed away the answer that was still being offered.
She’ll always be his. And I intend to keep it that way.

Anne slid off Adele’s lap, and the clunk she made when she landed broke his train of thought. His eyebrows rose. She was wearing boys’ boots!

“Where did those come from?” he asked.

“They belonged to Jacob,” Adele said with a wry smile. “I could not have her go to church with us without shoes.” She took the little girl’s hand and led her to the door.

Jonah followed and watched Adele tie one of her own older bonnets on Anne. It sagged and almost covered her face.

Adele tied on her own bonnet and looked hesitantly at Jonah. “You are sure you will not come with us?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I have some things to do in the fields.” He saw the disappointed look in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

The disappointment faded a little, and she gave him a small smile. “It is all right.”

Once they left, Jonah started to walk out of the house to head toward the barn when he saw his gun leaning just inside the door. He grabbed the door handle and tried to leave without it, but his feet suddenly felt as if they were stuck fast in thick mud. Reluctantly he grabbed it and made his way out to the shed.

There he picked up a hoe, intending to work in the cornfields, when he heard a steady drumming on the roof. He went to the door and was shocked to see it raining, heavy and hard. He stared.
It wasn’t supposed to rain today.
He always knew when it would rain. Rain, frost, snow, whatever the weather was going to be, he always seemed to have a sense about it. It had made Pa amused and proud that he’d inherited his ability.

Shaking his head, Jonah put the hoe back and made a dash to the house. His clothes got soaked anyway. After he changed, he wandered around the house.

The rain did not let up, and he eventually found himself in the parlor. He sat down at the secretary with his gun. It had gotten wet during his dash indoors, and it needed to be dried and cleaned.

But he found his attention wandering to Pa’s Bible. It still lay on the side table where Adele had left it four months ago—when he had told her he didn’t need it. As he worked on his gun, he found himself looking up at the leather-bound book several times. Finally, he set his weapon aside and fetched it.

Returning to the secretary, he held it out in front of him, running his thumbs over the worn leather. Pa had read from this every night after supper. Jonah had to smile as he recalled how shocked Ma had been when she found he’d been writing in it. She’d thought it sacrilegious. He had explained to her he wasn’t changing God’s Holy Word; he simply wanted to jot down his thoughts on the scriptures as he read. Eager to see his father’s handwriting, Jonah flipped it open.

“The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart
. …” Jonah’s eyes fell on the little note written beside the passage in Psalms:
Rebecca Ann Kirby.
His sister. Ma had given birth to her after Daniel and before Toby. She only lived a few days before passing away in the night. He hadn’t been very old, only six, but he remembered how sad Ma had been. Pa as well.

When he went to flip to another page, a folded note slipped from the Bible and fell onto the floor. He picked it up. The name on it said
Dorothy
, written in his father’s hand—a note from his father to his mother. Ma had used Pa’s Bible after he died. She must have put it there.